Angelology(213)

succeed where they had not. In this haze of frustration, the scars woven over Gabriella’s skin rose in

his mind and he shuddered in the miserable cold. He could not allow himself to entertain the

possibility that Evangeline was in pain.

In the distance, he saw the Brooklyn Bridge illuminated from below by floodlights. He recalled

Evangeline’s nostalgic attachment to the bridge. In his mind’s eye, he saw her profile as she drove

them from the convent toward the city and shared the memory of childhood walks with her father. The

purity of her feelings, and the sadness in her voice, had made his heart ache. He had seen the bridge

hundreds of times before, of course, but suddenly it had an undeniable personal resonance.

Verlaine checked his watch. It was now nearly five in the morning and the faintest hint of light

colored the sky beyond the bridge. The city seemed eerie and still. Headlights from the occasional

taxi flickered over the bridge’s ramparts, breaking the gauzy darkness. Runnels of warm steam coiled

in the brittle air. The bridge rose stark and powerful against the buildings beyond. For a moment he

simply looked at it, this steel and concrete and granite edifice.

As if he’d reached an unintended but final destination, Verlaine was about to turn away and head

back to the brownstone when a movement high above caught his eye. He looked up. Perched on the

west tower, its wings extended, stood one of the creatures. Raised in the half-light of dawn, he could

just make out the tapering elegance of the wings. The creature was standing upon the edge of a tower

as if examining the city. As he strained to examine its otherworldy magnificence more closely, he

detected something unusual in its appearance. Whereas the other creatures had been enormous—much

taller and stronger than human beings—this one was tiny. Indeed, the creature seemed almost fragile

under its great wings. He watched in awe as it extended them, as if in preparation for flight. As it

stepped to the edge of the tower, he caught his breath. The monstrous angel was his Evangeline.

Verlaine’s first impulse was to call out to her, but he could not find his voice. He was

overwhelmed by horror and a poisonous sense of betrayal. Evangeline had deceived him and worse,

she had lied to all of them. Repulsed, he turned and ran, blood thrumming in his ears, his heart

pounding with the effort. The freezing air filled his lungs, singeing them as he breathed. He could not

tell if the pain in his chest was from the chill or from losing Evangeline.

Whatever his feelings, he knew he must warn the angelologists. Gabriella had told him once—was

it only the previous morning?—that if he became one of them, he could never go back. He understood

now that she had been right.

West tower, Brooklyn Bridge, between Manhattan and Brooklyn, New

York City

Evangeline woke before the sun rose, her head nestled upon the soft cushion of her wings. The

disorientation of sleep clouded her thoughts, and she half expected to see the familiar objects of her

room at St. Rose—her starched white sheets, the small wooden dresser, and, from the corner of her

window, the Hudson River flowing by beyond the glass. But as she stood and gazed over the

darkened city, her wings unfolding around her like a great purple cloak, the reality of everything that

had happened hit her. She understood what she was and that she could never go back. All that she had

been, and all that she had thought she would become, had disappeared forever.

Looking below, to be sure that there was no one to witness her descent, Evangeline climbed up on

the granite edge of the tower. The wind lifted her wings, whistling through them, filling them with

buoyancy. At such tremendous height, all the world at her feet, a moment of trepidation took hold of

her. Flight was new to her, and the fall appeared endless. But as she took a deep breath and stepped

off the tower, her heart rising to her throat at the depths before her, she knew that her wings could not

fail her. In a sweep of weightlessness, she rose into the currents of icy air.